


Little Things

by Naemi



Category: The Faculty (1998)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 21:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2707388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jesus, Connor, why should I want to date you? You're a guy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



 

The bare bulb, a decrepit relict of long ago, flickered to life, chasing away most of the dusty twilight.

“Oh my God, Zeke. When was the last time you were up here?”

Zeke shrugged. “I told you. It's been about a decade.”

“I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Well. Surprise. I wasn't.” Zeke scanned the room. “I guess there's a lot.”

“We're probably crazy for wanting to do this.” Despite his words, Casey smiled. It was an adventure that promised to be great.

The attic was stuffed with boxes, suitcases and whatever else was the least bit suitable for storage, and an antique wardrobe hid the room's far wall. What wasn't kept in a container was piled up neatly; every inch of floor space seemed occupied, except for small pathways that wound past the treasure and the junk. It looked much like the carefully constructed attic-version of a labyrinth.

Casey clapped his hands. “Okay. Any special instructions?”

“Yeah.” Zeke blew the dust off of a pile of books right beside him. “Pop some Claritin.”

~ ~ ~

Working hand in hand, they cleared out most of the attic in two days. Much of what they dug up was junk, and they didn't bother handling those things with any care. Zeke opened the small window and started to throw out all the useless stuff into the dumpster below.

Anything that could be considered the least bit useful was brought downstairs to the garage in preparation for the yard sale next week.

Very few items proved to be real finds, and they would stay in the attic: Mrs. Tyler's wedding gown (“Just don't touch it, okay?”) or Zeke's cradle (“Unbelievable that you ever fit in there.”).

At the end of the second day, Casey dug up one last treasure, and he sat down on the dirty floor to examine it further. “This is awesome,” he half whispered.

“What is it?” Balancing two boxes with a lampshade on top, Zeke looked back over his shoulder. “Ah. Grandma's record player. She loved it.”

“She had a wonderful collection of records.”

To Zeke, none of the names or faces on the various covers that Casey laid out on the floor seemed familiar, and he shrugged.

“It's mostly big-band, swing, jazz,” Casey explained. “Judy, the Rat Pack, Ella. And some more modern stuff, too.”

“I remember this one.” Zeke nodded at the portrait of a blonde woman on a red background. Yellow letters read _Little Things Mean A Lot_. “Grannie used to sing it all the time. I think it was _their_ song or something.” He shrugged again and shifted the weight of his load. “You can have all that shit, if you want.”

Casey thought for a moment, but then he shook his head. “Sell them to a store,” he said. “They might be worth a small fortune.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I have no use for them. And the player is probably broken anyway.”

“We could get it fixed, I 'spose?”

“Just dump it.”

~ ~ ~

To put it mildly, Casey was surprised when Zeke opened the door wearing a kitchen apron, but he became really wide-eyed as he noticed that the never-used dining table was set with the china and silverware they had found in the attic last month. The very un-Zeke picture was completed with a fine tablecloth, candles and flowers, and on top of all this, the house smelled of the most delicious herbs and spices.

It was almost scary.

“Is it my birthday today?”

“Dunno. Is it?”

“No. And it's not We Survived Marybeth Day, either.”

“Nope.”

“What is it, then?”

“Just dinner.”

“It sure looks like dinner. It also looks like you've turned into a Stepford wife. What's going on?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to thank you for helping me cleaning out the attic and, um . . . ” Zeke shrugged. “Hey, I got us some wine.”

“This isn't some sort of a _date_ , is it?” Casey's mouth spilled the words before he even knew he was thinking them.

Zeke stopped in mid-unscrewing the cork and produced a tight grin. “Uh, no. I know better . . . I mean, um, I don't—Jesus, Connor, why should I want to date you? You're a guy.”

“Does it matter?”

“You're terrible. Why am I even friends with you?” Zeke popped the cork out of the wine bottle and filled their glasses. “Sit down. I need to check on the oven.”

~ ~ ~

Dinner was surprisingly delicious, which prompted Casey to keep making fun of Zeke's housewife qualities, to which Zeke repeatedly declared “the end of their friendship,” but never without chuckling.

Casey wasn't sure if the wine was to blame for making his head swim or if it was the whole situation. It _was_ a nice evening, and had it been a date . . . well, he wouldn't have complained about that. But he didn't bring it up again, and neither did Zeke.

After dessert, Zeke ushered him in to the living room. Expecting to maybe play some video games, or just tune into a stupid show they wouldn't be watching anyway—their usual routine—Casey was quick to follow, and utterly surprised to find the TV gone. On its stand stood the record player he'd found on the attic instead.

“I thought you dumped it. Seems you rather dumped your TV.”

Zeke laughed. “Fear not, my friend. It isn't gone forever,” he said with an over-dramatic voice. “Come on. Pick a record.”

Slowly, Casey walked over to the box standing beside the table. All the records from the attic were in there, and like the first time he saw them, he pulled them out one by one and traced the titles with careful fingertips. When he'd settled on a song, he put it on, handling the player almost with reverence. Before he set down the needle, he cast a glance over his shoulder; Zeke stood there watching him in silence, a smile on his face.

Hopefully, Casey's choice wouldn't wipe it away.

When Kitty Kallen demanded, _Blow me a kiss from across the room,_ Casey almost regretted choosing that damned song, but if anything, Zeke's smile brightened up.

“I see,” he said. “Next, I bet you'll ask me to dance with you.”

“Only if this was a date.”

“Maybe it is,” Zeke said so seriously that Casey's heart skipped a beat.

“Why would you want to date me? I'm a guy.”

“Does it matter?”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: C/Z, romance, fluff.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


End file.
